


Strike Home and Redouble the Blow

by somanyofthekids



Series: Fauntlings [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5423267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyofthekids/pseuds/somanyofthekids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt "things you said when you were drunk"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strike Home and Redouble the Blow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beautyagegoodnesssize](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beautyagegoodnesssize/gifts).



It was their last night at Beorn’s, and the bear of a man had brought out enough mead to satisfy even a room full of dwarves. Bilbo wasn’t sure whether Beorn wanted to give them a good sendoff or was celebrating that he would soon be seeing the back end of them, but he decided it didn’t really matter. Not when Thorin was enjoying the drink so much. 

It appeared he was enjoying it more than any of the other dwarves, in fact. It was a good homebrew, but most of the company were just warmly relaxed, a few verging on tipsy. They had enjoyed their rest and were eager to get back on the road. The mead was spreading around golden feelings about how near they were to the journey’s end, and how surely the worst must be behind them. 

Thorin, however, was far beyond that stage. It was confusing, given that he’d only drunk half as much as anyone else. He kept breaking into songs of which he’d forgotten half the words, and when he’d forget more than 4 words in a row he’d shrug and move on to sing a different song. 

 

> _“I wouldn’t sell my noble thirst_
> 
> _for half a dozen bluh bluh accurst!_
> 
> _Such treasures bluah bleh…”_

 

 He paused, tipping up his mug for another drink. He set it back down carefully and concentrated on making sure it wouldn’t move itself before his eyes lit up again.

 

> _“A lusty young smith at his vice stood a-filing._
> 
> _His hammer laid by but his forge still aglow.  
>  _
> 
> _When to him a curly haired hobbit came smiling,  
>  _
> 
> _And asked if to work in his forge he would go._

 

 Bilbo stared up at Thorin, open mouthed. Apparently he knew all the words to this particular tune.  

 

> _“I will,” said the smith, and they went off together,  
>  _
> 
> _Along to the small hobbit’s forge they did go.  
>  _
> 
> _They stripped to go to it, ‘twas hot work and hot weather.  
>  _
> 
> _They kindled a fire and he soon made him blow._
> 
> _Red hot grew his iron, as both did desire,_
> 
> _And he was too wise not to strike while 'twas so._
> 
> _Said he, “What I get I get out of the fire,_
> 
> _So prithee, strike home and redouble the blow.”  
>  _
> 
> _Six times did his iron,-”_

 

 “Alright, who let Thorin get into the mead??” demanded Oin, who had arrived during the middle of the song. Bilbo, flushed completely red, looked up, confused. Oin saw the expression and sighed exasperatedly. 

“He’s still on pain medication!! Even a small amount of drink will go straight to his head.” Oin grimaced at his king. “Obviously. Come on, Master Baggins, help me get him to bed so he can sleep this off.”

“Ah, don’t you think- perhaps someone- maybe taller?-”

“No.” answered Oin firmly. “Thorin, Bilbo and I are going to take you to bed.”

“I’d no idea you felt that way Oin! But if Bilbo is willing, then-”

“Come along, come along!” rushed Bilbo. 

Between the two of them, they managed to manhandle Thorin down to his room. Oin began clinically removing Thorin from the absurd amount of layers he wore, and after he gave a stern look to Bilbo the hobbit began to help, although he made sure that his hands stayed on Thorin’s top half. 

Thorin himself was still humming the song, inserting the occasional word. When he was finally divested of anything that may have caused more bruises during the night, Oin gave him a small push and he tipped over onto the bed. He grabbed on to Bilbo for support but just ended up dragging the flailing hobbit down with him. 

Thorin frowned at Bilbo, who was struggling to right himself. 

“Perhaps six times is a little unrealistic. Would you settle for four?”

“I would settle for you letting go of me so I can breathe, you twit!”

“Actually maybe two instead of four.”

“Oh, dear god. Oin?” Bilbo sharply pleaded. Oin was too busy chuckling into his hand. Bilbo glowered at him before looking back down at Thorin. 

He was gently snoring. 

The lines of stress that were his constant companion had smoothed away, leaving behind a nearly completely different dwarf. His lips parted and relaxed, letting out noisy little puffs of breath that were just about the cutest things Bilbo had ever heard. The hobbit found his own mouth parting in a smile. 

“You probably ought to stay right there,” said Oin with a knowing grin. “Someone should make sure he’s still breathing in the night.” 

Satisfied with what was probably not actually a legitimate reason for staying, Bilbo settled down next to the dwarf as Oin left the room.  _Besides,_  he thought,  _I might like to wake up Thorin with a song in the morning anyway._


End file.
